Not Giving In To Consumer Temptation

Husband and I very nearly made two impulse buys recently. We just about talked ourselves into both of them  on the same evening. Fortunately, good sense prevailed and I was very proud of us, living out our Footprints principles.

Our children spent a lot of time away from home this past summer. Teenage Son owns the first four seasons of The Big Bang Theory and Husband and I, in the children’s absence, began watching them one night and ended up watching several each day. In no time we’d finished all four seasons and wanted to watch the fifth. Immediately. No delayed gratification for us.

That same night, we tried the home made frozen yogurt I’d made the previous day. It was my first attempt. I thought it would be a great way to use up some over ripe bananas and peaches, and some yogurt that was about to expire. My first attempt was none too successful. It was too hard and very icy. We decided to get an ice-cream maker. Since that was anti-Footprints, however, we decided to get the ice-cream making attachment for our mixer instead.

It was settled then. We’d go out the next day and buy the attachment and the next season of TBBT. Right? Wrong! As soon as we’d made the decisions we realised how stupid they were. Why contribute to the problem of conspicuous consumerism and go against our own values? Instead, we rented the DVDs from our local DVD rental store. Yes, we had to wait a couple of days but does that really matter? We have everything at our finger tips these days. Surely, waiting for a day or two won’t kill us. It didn’t.

As for the frozen yogurt; it was my first attempt, for goodness sakes! I’ve made many a recipe in my life that I’ve had to tweak and perfect over a few tries. Where’s the challenge and satisfaction in running out and buying an ice-cream making attachment? I’m not bagging ice-cream makers or anyone who uses one; I’m simply saying that I don’t think my reasons were valid.

Cheers.

Eulogy for a Childhood Home

As a child, I never lived in a house longer than five years. Sometimes, we only moved suburbs, other times states, and when I was seven we moved halfway across the world to Adelaide, where we continued to move house.

My maternal grandparents and their house at 153 Canal Street in Mobile, Alabama, were a source of constancy, however. The house originally belonged to my great-grandmother, who lived there at one time with her sister, several grown children, their spouses and children. By the time I arrived, nearly fifty years ago, only my Nana and Papa lived there.

The heart of the house was the kitchen. Nana was always in there. It was where she cooked, ate, read the paper, watched TV, listened to her police radio, drank coffee and entertained family and friends. And entertain she did. My childhood memories are full of great-aunts and great-uncles sitting around the kitchen table drinking coffee, telling bawdy jokes and gossiping. They were fun, funny and completely irreverent.

My favourite part of the house was not inside, however. I spent long hours on the large front porch swinging on the swing as I watched the world go by, reading or chatting with anyone who came out to join me. I think it was Papa’s favourite place, too. He used to rise early and sit out there, with the dog at his feet, watching the sun come up.

My Nana and Papa died within eight months of each other and my mother sold 153 Canal Street. That was over twenty years ago. The house has still been known all these years, however, as “Aunt Mil’s”. There was a family reunion 18 months ago and a carload of relatives drove past to see where several of the descendants of “Johnny Murrill” (my great-grandfather) had lived.

I had fantasised about, one day, driving past with my children during a reunion and showing the house to them.  That really is just a fantasy now because I woke this morning to learn that 153 Canal Street had burnt down on Saturday evening.

Of course, the house would have just been an old house to them. They’ve never met any of my long-dead great-aunts and great-uncles. They can’t hear their laughter and voices as I still can. Neither do they know how it felt to be held tight cheek to cheek with Nana and feel her wrinkles against my cheek as she said, “Good morning, sugar.”

Ultimately, it was just a house. I’m still deeply saddened, though, that it no longer exists but overwhelmingly grateful to have such sweet and lasting memories of time spent in it.

Time for the Things We Value

One of the bloggers I follow usually does short posts which are then followed by a lot of comments. She did one recently about finding time to do the things one values. There seemed to be a general consensus that we tend to place those things at the bottom of our list of priorities. Many ideas were put forward as to how to redress the balance and I certainly began to think long and hard about it.

Something really important happened to me as a result of that post. I had a wonderful “light-bulb” moment. Teenage Son is overseas right now and the moment came in the lead-up to his departure. On the Monday morning of that week I walked into his room 20 minutes before he was due to get picked up for school. There he sat on his bed, in his pyjamas, strumming on the guitar. I tactfully suggested that perhaps he get dressed, eat breakfast and then play the guitar; all the while my blood pressure was skyrocketing. He did so but seemed perplexed that I should ask him to leave getting the riff just right to do such mundane things.

Two days later he was in the midst of packing but suddenly disappeared out to our detached rumpus room. A little later, he excitedly came and got me and said I had to listen to a mash up he’d done on the piano. I sat in the armchair listening to his mash up, stewing. I couldn’t understand how he could be so blasé about getting organised just 36 hours before he was due to leave. And then it hit me. If I had been a cartoon character a bolt of lightning would have come out of the sky. Teenage Son doesn’t care if his suitcase is a shambles or if he has to throw on clothes and bolt down cereal. He’d much rather spend time doing what he values.

I smiled and relaxed into the armchair listening to him play. Music is his passion and he places it above everything else because it’s what he values above all else. In reality, I should be learning from him, not the reverse. Maybe, just maybe, I could research ethical companies and write a blog post before I do anything else each day instead of doing a little if I happen to get the chance at the end of the day. And if I don’t get through my “to-do” list does it really matter?

Teenage Son got to school dressed and breakfasted on the Monday. Furthermore, he left home at 4am last Friday neatly packed and all organised. I helped very little. After all, he has to do it by himself when he’s travelling. The two things he made sure to pack were a harmonica and an iPod full of songs!

Cheers.

Rubbish!

Over the past few weeks, we’ve significantly reduced what we’re throwing away. By significantly I mean we’ve reduced our landfill rubbish by well over half. We’ve also reduced our recycling a little.

I’m sad to share that most of our kitchen waste was going into landfill since we have neither a compost bin nor a worm farm. Husband, however, did a short half-day course in sustainable living and brought away a piece of extremely relevant information. Our local council now encourages people to throw their food scraps into the garden waste bin. I knew that was the case in other council areas but didn’t know it was in ours. Not only do they encourage it but they give local residents bench top bins and compostable bin liners.

We already had a bench top bin and most of what went into it was food scraps. Unfortunately when we emptied it most evenings it went into the rubbish bin outside. Our habits have not had to change at all. The only difference is that the scraps now go into the garden waste bin instead at the end of the day. We can also throw in used tissues and shredded paper. I shred any correspondence which has personal details on it so all that is now going into the kitchen bin instead of the recycling one. In fact, shredded paper for the recycling bin needs to be put into a paper bag first because the bits of shredded paper can cause problems. Not so with the food scrap bin; just throw in the shredded paper as is.

I would encourage anyone whose local government provides a green waste bin to find out their policy on food scraps. You may get a pleasant surprise.

If you can put your food scraps into your garden bin, be aware that it’s preferable to wrap them in newspaper – which is acceptable – or compostable bags. Otherwise they get smelly and, since our bin is only picked up fortnightly, we don’t want that! Alternatively, you can freeze all those scraps until bin day and then throw them in. I guess it depends on how much disposable freezer space you have.

Cheers.

How NOT to Make a Cup of Tea

The other day I proceeded to make cups of tea for Husband, Teenage Daughter and me. Things didn't quite go to plan.

I put enough water in the kettle for three cups and turned it on to boil. While it was boiling I put a teabag into each mug. We usually use loose leaf tea and a teapot but Planet Organic makes really nice Earl Grey tea. In fact, I prefer it to Twinings. The bags can be put into the green waste bin, as well, so I don't mind the small indulgence.

Once the water had boiled I poured it into the mugs. It was then that I realised that the Planet Organic chamomile teabags had been sitting on top of the Earl Grey ones and I'd accidentally grabbed them instead. So, while the three mugs of chamomile were steeping, I refilled the kettle, got three fresh mugs and three Earl Grey teabags.

This time, once the water had boiled I again poured boiling water into the mugs. It was then that I discovered I'd only filled the kettle with enough water for two mugs. (It's unusual to have to make three.) So, as all the various teas steeped, I boiled the kettle for a third time! I got it right on the third attempt.

We all got our cups of tea in the end and I'm gradually working my way through the jug of chamomile in the fridge. I was pretty annoyed with myself for boiling the kettle not once, not twice but three times. Grrr!

How not to make a cup of tea!!!

Cheers.

Bangladesh Accord

Below is a list of the companies that have signed the Bangladesh Accord to improve worker safety. Big W is not on the list but is in negotiations to do so. Furthermore, the Ethical Consumer Guide now has a section on clothing. Here is the link if you want to check it out. I've also been in touch with Miller - which hasn't shown up on either list - and they responded immediately with, "Kindly be advised that Millers do not partake in the operation of sweat shops nor do we produce products in this manner. All of our colleagues are paid a fair wage by Bangladesh trading and employment standards. Millers supports the growth of employment and trade in Bangladesh and are always looking to improve and build on this." Just Jeans and Pacific Brands are yet to answer. In fact, I contacted Pacific Brands over two years ago and heard nothing. Sadly, they dominate the underwear market here so they don't really have to play by the rules because no one is going to go knickerless in protest.

Cheers.


Abercrombie & Fitch

Aldi Nord

Aldi South

American Eagle Outfitters, Inc.

Auchan

Belotex

Benetton

Bestseller

Bonmarche

C&A

Camaieu

Carrefour

Charles Voegele

Chicca

Comtex GmbH

Coop Danmark

Cotton On

Dansk

Daytex

Debenham

Distra

DK Company

El Corte Ingles

Ernstings's Family

Esprit

Fat Face

Forever New

Gstar

H&M

Helly 
Hansen

Hema

Hemtex AB

Herding 
Heimtextil

Hess Natur-Textilien GmbH

Horizonte

Inditex

JBC

Jogilo

John Lewis

Juritex

KappAhl

Karstadt

Kik

Kmart (Australia)

LC WAIKIKI

Leclerc

Lidl

Loblaw

Mango

Marks and Spencer

Metro

Mothercare

Multiline

N Brown

New Look

Next
Otto Group

Primark

PUMA

PVH

Rewe

S Olivier

Sainsbury

Schmidt Group

Scoop NYC / Zac Posen

Sean John Apparel

Shop Direct Group

Stockmann

Switcher

Target (Australia)

Tchibo

Tesco

Texman

Topgrade International

V&D

Van der Erve 
NV

Varner Group

Voice Norge AS

We Europe

Zeeman

Reverse Culture Shock

I spent a lovely couple of hours yesterday morning with Teenage Daughter, her friend, The Traveller, and The Traveller's Mum. It was a catch-up I'd really been looking forward to. The Traveller's been back from India for a month now and I got to hear all about her five month stay there.

One of the first things The Traveller mentioned was reverse culture shock. Anyone who's travelled overseas knows what I'm referring to. It's the culture shock you experience when you get home and it's real.

The first morning The Traveller woke up in her own bed at home, she was overwhelmed by the fact that she was alone, not only in a big room but, in a big house. I imagine she never before had thought of her room or her house as being particularly large but she was feeling it that day.

I remember years ago when Australia began to welcome Vietnamese refugees and asylum seekers how people were shocked that several extended families would live in one three bedroom suburban house. By the mid-seventies, when Saigon fell, most Australian families lived one family per house. That's still the case but the houses keep getting bigger. Families of four these days think they couldn't possibly live in houses the size of the ones they grew up in. It's all relative, of course, because people in Third World countries seem to be happy just to have a roof over their heads and don't seem too hung up on who they're sharing a room or a house with.

After waking, The Traveller ventured into the kitchen for breakfast and encountered her second wave of culture shock. For five months she'd been happily starting the day with a vegemite and cheese covered chapati. Back in Australia she was faced with the endless choices of breakfast foods. That's not bad by any means but have you gone to a full pantry or fridge, stood there with the door open, your finger to your lips wondering what to have? We're so blessed with choice that sometimes it's a curse. And we don't even appreciate it for the most part.

The Traveller told me that they had flour, rice, dhal, tomatoes, potatoes and onions as the staples out of which they made most of their meals. (Hopefully, if The Traveller is reading this she can add to the comment section anything I may have left out.) They made fresh chapatis everyday. All their meals were cooked on a small gas burner and there was no fridge which made things like milk and meat somewhat tricky. In all the photos she took over the course of the five months in India, she is the picture of health. I don't know about anyone else but I have a lot more than a fridge, small gas cooker and full fridge and pantry in my kitchen. One cupboard is replete with appliances I rarely use.

I could never live the way The Traveller did for that five months. For a start I'd end up with the worst Delhi belly in the history of the world. As I listened, however, I felt blessed by my modest suburban home and comfortable kitchen.

When The Traveller went to the supermarket for the first time after her return she was appalled by the amount of packaging on all our products. In India she shopped at local markets and used her plastic and material bags until they fell apart. A lot of us are trying that here and fighting what feels like a losing battle. Can you even buy strawberries loose anymore?

Out of the kitchen and into the laundry. What laundry? In India The Traveller hand washed all her clothes outside and hung it to dry. Hand wringing was sometimes a two-person job. The area The Traveller lived in is prone to fog and it was difficult to dry clothes on foggy days. The "Chinese laundry" set up in my rumpus room doesn't seem so bad now. After all, it's only the clothes that can't be put in the drier.

And finally, a piece of advice. When travelling in India the rule of thumb is to allow an extra five hours. Yes, five hours. I wonder how the people who get antsy if the plane sits on the tarmac a little too long or if the bus is late would cope in India. Hang on, that's me. I think there's a lesson in both patience and gratitude there somewhere.

We are just so lucky here. I'm not saying we're better or our life or our country is. I'm just saying our life is easy in comparison because of all the luxuries we have. And they are luxuries even though we think they're necessities. I also think we can learn a lot from the Indian lifestyle. It's not one I could adopt or cope with but I like the idea that less is enough when it comes to what's in the kitchen, as well as packaging. In fact, I like the idea in relation to our rooms and houses, too. My house feels pretty small but I bet if I off-loaded all the superfluous stuff it would feel big enough. After all, in previous generations a house the size of mine may have housed a couple of families or, at least, an extension of my own.

As for the five hour rule. Aaargh. I'm going to remind myself of it, however, every time I find myself feeling impatient because I have to stand in line or am caught in a traffic jam.

Cheers.